


Sick

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Male Slash, Memories, Oral Sex, Pedophilia, Promiscuity, Regret, Self-Hatred, Sibling Incest, Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isn't that why we still do this? Aren't we too f*cked up to stop?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Itachi

**Author's Note:**

> So last night I was bored. I just started typing and somehow this happened.  
> It also works for the request I was given over on Fanfiction for an angsty ItaSasu oneshot from The Mistress of Yaoi o u o yaaay. Good things.
> 
> Itachi's POV.

My dear baby brother, I'm sorry I couldn't control myself any longer. I tried—trust me, I did—but every small, seemingly innocent action pushed me closer and closer to breaking. I know those _flirtatious_  smiles you always threw my way were unintentional. I know all those adorable pleas to sleep in my bed every night were entirely innocent. But still, they pushed on my resolve.

That first night, you were scared. I knew you were by the trembling of your arms and the quivering of your lip. But I couldn't stop myself. It took some time, some gentle kissing and fondling, but eventually I managed to turn those whimpers of fear into whimpers of pleasure and lust. But I felt so _guilty_ afterwards.

You were only seven years old.

The next day, we acted as though everything was normal, but was it? Certainly for you everything was exactly the same. You carried no guilt, for you knew nothing of the great sin we, two brothers, committed. All the guilt fell onto me, the sick, twisted, depraved boy I was.

It turned into something normal, something ritualistic. You would crawl into my bed at night, all wide-eyed and angelic, and beg for me to touch you. You said you liked it, that it felt good.

What had I done?

If I refused, you'd cuddle up under my arm with an adorable pout, muttering, "Please, Aniki? I'll touch you too."

How was I supposed to resist that?

I laid you on your back and ravished you completely, swallowing your tiny moans with my mouth over yours. And still, no matter how rough I was, no matter how uncontrolled, you always came back for more.

Look at us now.

You're seventeen, more than old enough to know that what we did—what we're _doing—_ is wrong. But have you stopped? No. Have you asked _me_ to stop? Far from it.

You seduce me, no matter how I try to resist. Your adorable pleas turned into whorish moans and gasps for more. I know it's all my fault, how you are now. I started you out young, far too young to be able to handle such things.

But do I truly regret it?

"Stop feeling guilty," you murmur, nuzzling my neck as you rock against me, slowly, sensually. I'm completely naked, completely vulnerable. "I want you, big brother."

I shudder, for it's all I can do when you remind me, remind _yourself_ of how _wrong_ this all is. It's sick, immoral, disgusting...addictive.

"Sasuke," I choke as you redouble your efforts on the soft, sensitive skin of my ivory neck, your hands running freely over my exposed chest. You pay me no heed, sucking and nipping and fondling as you see fit. Why won't you stop? "We shouldn't."

"But I want it."

"You don't know what you want."

I feel your smirk burning into the crook of my neck before I feel and hear your quiet, controlled laughter.

"Maybe you're right," you say. I feel you shrug, then you push me onto my back. As I fall onto the bed I try to look away, I try to ignore you, but your hands roam every inch of my bare body, touching me, teasing me, making sure you get exactly what you want-what you _crave._ It isn't possible for me to deny you anything you desire, even if it's my own body.

"Fuck me," you breathe, and I nod. Any small shred of control I had abandons me as you pull your shirt over your head, exposing your pale, perfect, _gorgeous_ body to my ravenous eyes.

"You're so beautiful," I can't help but whisper. I've seen you so many times, through all stages of your young life, yet you never get any less breathtaking. I feel like I've been gifted by whatever god there is with such an ethereal being as my own flesh-and-blood. But, truthfully, it's been more of a curse. If you weren't so beautiful, so divine, so heavenly, then I wouldn't have lost control all those long years ago.

You smirk, rocking your hips only slightly, teasing yourself, before bending down and pressing your soft—still so _soft_ —lips against mine. I'm sure mine are rough, chapped, unworthy, but you seem to love them more than you love the air you breathe. You moan as I wind my fingers through your short hair, pulling you closer, relinquishing control to my perverse lust.

You pull away only slightly, breathing heavily against my bruised lips, your arms on either side of my head. Your beautiful onyx eyes shine with pure lust, though there's something else there. Something that frightens me even more.

"I love you," you say, and I swear my heart breaks. It breaks because yes, I love you too, I love you more than words alone could ever fully describe. I could search the entire world, waiting, watching, learning, but I'd never be able to fully convey my feelings, as disgusting as they may be. But you can tell me those three simple words without an inkling of hesitation. I know they're true. I know you mean them. You never say anything that isn't absolutely heartfelt.

"I love you, too," I say, though it's more of a moan as you kiss down my neck, my chest. You bite and suck at my nipples, spreading little jolts of pleasure through my whole body, before you move down farther. Flashes of times before you even knew the proper name for what we did every night play through my lust-hazed mind, and my cock twitches in appreciation of such forbidden, _terrible_ memories. I did this exact same thing to you, kissing down your entire body, tasting you everywhere I possibly could.

Me. I taught you everything.

I throw my head back, moaning louder than I'll ever admit I did as you swallow my cock whole. I shudder, though it's partially with self-revulsion as you easily slide my cock down your throat, never once pausing, never once breaking the steady rhythm years have set. I'm awful for teaching you such wonderful things. I'm depraved for losing myself to such sinful yearnings. The devil probably laughs as we sign our own tickets to hell, night after night.

I wish you would have grown up to hate me, but no, the truth is far worse. As you just said, you _love_ me. You love me how no one should ever love their own sibling, and I love you too. I guess we're both sick now, aren't we?

But I was the one who infected you.

"Sasuke..." I buck upwards and you let me, never once pausing the frantic bobbing of your head. I crack my eyes open, only to be met with a sight so arousing I nearly cum right then. How can you stare at me, your _brother_ as you do something so intimate, something only reserved for honest lovers? I cheated you out of your life, yet you _love me,_ you _pleasure me,_ you practically _worship me._

You smirk around the cock in your mouth, trailing your hand slowly down to the waistband of your pants. You pop the button then dip below and you moan as you touch yourself, causing vibrations to travel up my shaft. My breath catches in my throat as I teeter on the edge of release, and you, sensing this, pull away, not even bothering to act embarrassed at the lewd 'pop' that accompanies the action. You lick your lips, chuckling quietly, lustfully as you gaze at me.

"I want you to cum inside me," you say, and my cock twitches in response to such a terrible, terrible request. Didn't I teach you to say such things?

You sit back, pulling off your pants with haste. You don't wear boxers, not since your eighth birthday. I soon figured out it only made things easier for us if there was less clothing involved, and you were more than eager to please me.

I'm so _sick._

You return to straddling me and don't even bother to prep yourself. Why would you? You're used to it by now. You're used to your brother filling you, stretching you, ruining you.

"Are you gonna fuck me hard?" you ask, a loud, wanton moan pushing past your lips as I roughly grab your narrow hips, yanking you until your wet hole rubs right over my rigid, pre-cum soaked cock. You soon get the message, grinding on me and kissing at my chest, moaning the whole while as your hard cock rubs against my stomach, smearing pre-cum on me. Didn't I tell you I loved it when you were loud? When you teased me?

You slowly lower yourself onto my length and mewl loudly, nearly shutting your eyes as the sickeningly familiar feeling of being stretched to your limit hits you. You moan again once I'm completely inside and stop for a moment, your pouty lips parted and hot breaths puffing on my chest as you adjust to taking something where it doesn't belong.

Does this make you feel whole, complete?

Isn't that why we still do this? Aren't we too fucked up to stop?

"I love you," you whisper after a few moments, leaning onto my chest as you expertly rock your hips. You cry out softly as you feel the familiar heat of brushing your prostate and move faster, trying to increase the pressure against it. I know that's what you're doing. You've done it so many times before.

"Itachi..."

I try to pretend I don't feel the wet drops fall onto my chest, but I do. I try to pretend I don't feel your shoulders shaking, but I do. You increase the speed of your rocking hips to mask your trembling, but I felt it. I always feel it.

I bring you down harder, feeding my own growing pleasure, and you cry out, arching your back and allowing me to see your face, though I'm sure you didn't mean to expose your tear-streaked cheeks. You always try to hide them.

After taking one look at me, sweaty and lost in pleasure, you cum hard, spurting your seed onto both of our bodies, though most splatters onto you. Your entire body jerks and your eyes flit shut, mouth going slack with a breathy moan as agonized euphoria washes over you.

I follow suit, shooting my cum into you yet another time, my eyes closed tight as everything disappears for a moment. Everything feels perfect, amazing; my entire body is overcome by the unworldly pleasure of filling you again. I'll never get enough.

I crash back down, but have a soft landing, padded by the small smile on your beautiful lips as you gaze at me, panting, sweaty and covered in your own cum. Your face is still streaked with tears, a couple slipping out here and there, but you look content in the most melancholy way. With a small sniffle, you bend over, resting your head on my shoulder and nuzzling a little. The action reminds me of how young you truly are. You still rely on me as your older brother, yet I couldn't be more unfit for such a role.

"I love you, big brother," you whisper, your voice tired, sated, yet hoarse from crying so much.

"I love you too, Sasuke," I say, though I can barely hear myself over the thundering of my heart in my ears. I wrap my arms around you and you sigh happily, undoubtedly contented though you probably wish you could die.

So in the end, as we lay here together, cuddled so lovingly after something so revolting, let me ask you if you regret it as much as I do. How heavy is your guilt? Do you wish you could stop it? Do you wish you could go back to that first night and run to the safety of our parents' room before I undressed you instead of blindly trusting me? Or perhaps you just enjoy it, this sick, perverted masochism.

Maybe you're finally as sick as me.


	2. Sasuke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noahstarr suggested I write from Sasuke's point of view, so I did. Hopefully it turned out okay. I tried to alter the writing style and some wording slightly since it's from a different point of view, so hopefully I did okay. c:
> 
> Circa Survive has completely fueled this. Jesus. Perfect angst-writing music, I swear to God.

My perfect big brother, I'm sorry I've pushed you so far. I'm sorry I've become such a _whore,_ such a _tease,_ such a _nuisance,_ such a _disgrace._ I'm sorry I tempted you when we were little kids. I didn't know any better, but I wish I had.

That first night, you terrified me. The look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, the way you touched me, _where_ you touched me... I didn't know what to do. But you soothed me, you told me things were going to be alright, and I believed you. Eventually, my body warmed up to your careful touches, and it felt so _good._

I was only seven years old.

You barely looked at me after we were done, though you held me close. The next day, however, you scarcely even spoke to me, though we tried to pretend that everything was normal. I was sad— _did I do something wrong?_ —but I crawled into your bed again that night and curled up next to you. You asked me to leave, and you sounded so upset, but I couldn't. I wanted you to make me feel good again.

So you did.

You devoured me, and I loved every second of it. Every kiss, nip, suck, thrust—all of it.

It happened every night from then on. Though I'd have to beg and plead sometimes for you to touch me, you'd always cave. I always got my way.

Just look at us now.

You're twenty-three and I'm seventeen. We're no longer children, but were we ever to begin with? We both know how depraved this is, but does it stop us?

Does it stop _me?_

"Stop feeling guilty," I murmur, though it's mostly to myself. I nuzzle your neck as I rock against you, slowly, carefully. You're naked, courtesy of me, but I'm still terrified. "I want you, big brother." My voice sounds _so much_ more confident than I feel. Should I be proud, Itachi?

I feel you shudder under me. Do you like it when I call you that? Do you enjoy the _wrongness_ as much as I do?

"Sasuke," you choke, but I redouble my efforts to try and silence you, running my hands everywhere, biting, kissing any part I can. Just don't say it, please, _please,_ don't say it... "We shouldn't."

I grit my teeth, anger rising rapidly in my chest. We _shouldn't,_ Itachi? Why the hell weren't you saying that ten years ago when you forced yourself on me, kissing me, fondling me, making me feel so hellishly, disgustingly, repulsively _good?_

"But I want it." _I want it so badly._

"You don't know what you want."

_I never knew._

I can't help but smirk; it's the only thing holding back the tears. The tears of weakness, regret, revulsion. Then I laugh, because I can't help it. I laugh because we're sick. I laugh because we're fucked up.

I laugh because I'm hopelessly in love with you.

"Maybe you're right," I say, shrugging as I try to force away the merciless welling of tears in my black, lifeless eyes. I push you back onto the bed, desperate to get to the part that doesn't fucking _hurt._ You try to look away, as you always do. You try to ignore me, try to pretend I'm not here, over you, but I run my hands all over your beautiful body, the body I should never see this way.

I know you can never truly resist me. Not when you want it just as much as I do.

"Fuck me," I breathe, and you nod. You self-control is breaking, as it always does when I pull my shirt over my head, exposing myself fully. I can't even find it in myself to feel embarrassed anymore as you drag your eyes over every part of me. I'm just fulfilling the role I was assigned, I suppose, though I find no real comfort in such a thought.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper. You've seen me so many times, from the small, scrawny, _innocent_ seven-year-old you lusted after to...this. This whore, this slut. You love it so much, don't you?

I smirk despite the rising lump in my throat, rocking my hips only slightly, teasing myself, before bending down and pressing my soiled mouth against your soft, addictive lips. I'll never get enough of this, enough of this disgusting affection. I moan as you wind your pale, slender fingers through my short, spiky hair, pulling me closer, indulging yourself...letting go.

I pull away only slightly, breathing heavily against your bruised lips, my arms on either side of your head. You're so beautiful, so _fucking_ beautiful...

"I love you," I say, and I see the sadness shining in your eyes. The regret. The disgust. Why am I able to admit it so freely? Why am I so lost?

"I love you, too," you say, though it's practically a moan as I kiss down your neck, your chest. I stop at your nipples, biting and sucking and reveling in every beautiful, lust-drenched moan I earn. Do you remember this, big brother? Did I taste as good as you do? Do I make you feel as good as you made me feel?

You taught me everything, after all.

You throw your head back with an ear-splitting moan as I swallow your cock whole. You shudder, gripping the sheets, gasping as I deepthroat you, though I never once pause as I establish our practiced rhythm. You've taught me so well, haven't you?

I should hate you, I should despise you completely. But I can't, not when I love you so fucking _much._

I guess I'm sick now, aren't I?

But you were the one...

"Sasuke..." You buck upwards and I let you, never once pausing the frantic bobbing of my head. I watch you, unable to tear my gaze away as you crack your hazy eyes open. Your cock twitches in my mouth as you watch me doing something forbidden, dirty, taboo. Your precious baby brother, the whore, with his lips and throat stretched wide to make big brother feel good. You _love_ it.

I smirk around the delicious treat in my mouth, trailing my hand slowly down to the waistband of my pants. I pop the button then dip my hand below and moan because it feels so fucking _good,_ because it feels so fucking _wrong._ Your breath hitches and you tense up, signalling your impending release, and I pull away, not even minding the lewd 'pop' that follows. I lick my lips-lick away the _taste-,_ chuckling quietly, lustfully as I gaze at you.

"I want you to cum inside me," I say, and your cock twitches in response to such a whorish request. Didn't you teach me to say things like that?

I quickly slip out of my pants, though underwear is no hindrance. You told me to stop wearing them, remember? And I happily agreed. Anything to please big brother.

I'm so _sick._

After throwing them aside, I return to straddling you, unable to wait another second before impaling myself on your delicious cock. I need my fix or else I'll go completely insane.

"Are you gonna fuck me hard?" I ask, a loud, wanton moan slipping past my lips as you grab my hips and yank me until my slick hole rubs right over your rock-hard, pre-cum drenched cock. You're so wet for me, big brother...

I grind on you, kiss at your chest, moan as sluttily as I can as my cock rubs against your stomach. I'm probably smearing pre-cum all over you. Don't you love it when I tease you? When I'm loud? When I'm a _whore?_

I slowly lower myself onto your length, mewling loudly, nearly shutting my eyes as the _amazing_ feeling of you stretching me, filling me up as much as I can take, hits me. Once you're completely inside, I moan again, unable to contain myself as my stomach churns with desire and my arms tremble as I grip onto the bed, desperate for leverage. I pant a little, my breath fanning over your chest as I slowly adjust.

I feel whole, complete, _okay._

Isn't that why we still do this? Aren't we too fucked up to stop?

"I love you," I can't help but whisper after a few moments, leaning on your chest as I expertly rock my hips. I've had so many years to perfect the art of riding big brother's cock, haven't I? I suppose I'm an expert by now. I cry out softly as I hit my prostate, and desperately try to increase the pressure against it. I just want to feel right now. I don't want to _think,_ I don't want to _hurt._ Just let me feel good for a little while.

"Itachi..."

The tears come without warning this time, and I can't stop them. I hope you can't feel them, but you probably can. I hope you can't feel my shoulders shake, but you probably can. I increase the speed of my rocking hips to mask my horrible trembling, but you probably felt it. I know you did.

You bring me down harder and I cry out, arching my back unconsciously as pleasure races up my spine. I didn't want you to see my face, my tears, my _weakness,_ but it's too late now. As my blurry eyes fall onto your pleasure-filled face, I cum hard, spurting my seed onto both of our bodies, though most splatters onto me. My entire body jerks and my eyes flutter shut, my mouth going slack with a breathy, _slutty_ moan as this horrible, agonized euphoria washes over me, wiping my mind of the guilt, if only for a second.

I feel you cum inside me, just as I wanted, and I tremble worse at the feeling. God, it feels so good... I'll never get enough.

As I slowly come down, I smile at you, gazing into eyes that are so much like my own. I'm sad, of course I am, but I feel whole. I feel alright.

I know you do, too.

A few tears still slip out of my eyes, unfortunately, but I don't feel as awful as before. My heart swells with melancholic joy, if such a thing truly exists.

With a small sniffle, I bend over, resting my head on your shoulder and nuzzling you slightly. You smell so nice, so comforting... It's times like this that remind me of before all of this happened. The memories are fuzzy, hazy, unfocused, but the feelings aren't. I remember you holding me at night when I was scared, before I pushed you too far. I miss it so much.

"I love you, big brother," I whisper, my voice sleepy and hoarse as my eyes slowly slip closed. I feel just like the child I was at one point in time. It was so long ago...

"I love you too, Sasuke," you say, barely above a whisper. You wrap your arms around me and I sigh happily, though my heart aches for something, _anything,_ yet I don't know what.

So in the end, as we lay here together, snuggling so closely after something so perfectly horrible, let me ask you if you regret it as much as I do. How guilty are you, Itachi? Do you wish we could stop this, end this immoral madness? Do you wish you could go back to that first night and lock your door, preventing me from entering and slipping in next to you, _tempting_ you? Or perhaps you love it as much as I do, this sick, perverted, amazing, incredible, _addictive_ masochism.

Maybe I'm even sicker than you.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what the fuck that was.  
> Thanks for reading it, though! Kudos and comments are very much loved. c:


End file.
